


Atropa Belladonna

by PAPERSK1N



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Betrayl, Blood, Bloody, Everyone Is An Asshole, Fake AH Crew, Family Dynamics, Fighting, Katana Sword, Killing, Loads of that, M/M, Martial Arts, Multi, No Major Character Death, Not like... gore tho? Like fighting, Raywood, Raywood endgame tho, Violence, hinted other relationships, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7922353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atropa Belladonna - (A.K.A Deadly Nightshade)</p><p> </p><p>////////</p><p> </p><p>Things were not always the way they are now.</p><p>Ray had never really done the whole family thing very well, and so when the inevitable happens and he falls in love, the only logical option is to run as fast as he can and take the first exit he sees out of the Fake AH Crew, a squad of trained killers and assassins lead by Geoff Ramsey.</p><p>Ryan has other ideas. Revenge is a foul and devious way of murder.</p><p> <br/>Complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Good Doctor

Chapter One – The Good Doctor

 

 

_Your Knife, My Back_

_My Gun, Your Head_

 

 

 

Things were not always the way they are now.

 

 

 

_Ray’s feet made splashes as they hit the floor rhythmically. The concrete was subdued with a shallow coating of dirty water, and the air was thick and pungent with the smell of wasted time. But still, he ran slowly, matching pace with the masked man beside him. Neither said anything at all- and despite the narrow width of the tunnel, Ray had never felt more distance between himself and Ryan in his entire life._

_He turned his head- but the half form words died on his lips as Ryan slowed their run to a gentle jog, and then even slower, to a tense walk._

_“What is it?” Ray asked, tasting the agitation in the air. Ryan stopped completely so Ray stopped as well, and the two stared at each other for a short while in mutual silence. It was hard to keep focus on Ryan’s face when it was covered with his haunting grey skull mask, so when it was pulled off and crumpled in bruised fingers, Ray felt a little less on edge._

_“Ryan?” he asked, and the two finally met eyes again. “What’s up?”_

_“Well.” Ryan sighed. Not a single bead of emotion ran with the sweat down his face. “Not much.”_

_“I have to tell you something.” They both said at the same time, following a long pause. Ray cursed Ryan mentally for always wanting to steal his moments for himself. The usually masked criminal gave his typical lazy smirk, and curled his fingers by his side._

_Ray bit his lip. “Same time?” he offered. Ryan shook his head._

_“I’ll go first.” He said. “If that’s alright with you.”_

_When Ray looked at Ryan’s hand again, it was gripped around his pistol. Ray swallowed around nothing in his throat, but nodded despite. It wasn’t alright with him- but it was too late for that. He couldn’t hold his tongue any longer._

_Ryan smiled at him, one last time._

_Then Ryan said, “There doesn’t have to be two of us.”_

_At the same time Ray said, or had at least started to say “Ryan, I lo-” but the rest of his sentence was cut short by the feeling of a bullet, pressing itself into the side of his skull. He hadn’t even had a chance to look Ryan in the eyes one last time, to savour the sight that plagued his dreams and nightmares._

_Finally, Ryan had got the best of him, and his obsession had been returned by the purest form of love they had in their line of work._

_A quick death_

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“Ryan!” his voice was raspy, throat almost numb as he attempted to shout, body flying up from the uncomfortably bed he was laid on. Ray’s chest heaved as he sucked in breath, and he glanced around the room, panicked. “Ryan?” he tried again, but it was no good. His vocal chords couldn’t produce much more than a whisper, and the room was completely empty.

Ray looked around the room he was in, noting the bleak white walls paired with a linoleum white floor. A plastic bed with thin sheets and bars along the sides. Tall machines flanked him, wires flowing in and out of his arms and his side. Suddenly, every square inch of Ray’s body ached.

 _Oh_ , that was right. He remembered now. He had told Ryan he loved him- and in return, Ryan had shot him in the fucking head.

Ray reached up to the side of his skull. His hair felt a little shorter, and smooth, rather than thick and wiry. In fact, his hair didn’t really feel like hair at all, faint brushes of stubble surrounding an oddly cool piece of skin. He tapped at the small, smooth patch with the tip of his fingernail and his mouth promptly fell open in shock as it made a quiet _clang_ ring through the room. It was a metal plate, about twice the size of a beer bottle cap. A piece of metal was in his head because his skull had been blasted by a 38 calibre.

“It’s this room- I’m telling you!”

Ray flinched as he heard familiar voices outside. On instinct, he shot straight back down to on his back and clamped his mouth shut tightly so he wouldn’t hyperventilate. His eyes were screwed shut as he heard Michael and Gavin enter, but once they began bickering, he dared to peek open at them both. They were dressed up, which was strange. Michael and Gavin were trained killers- not paramedics.

“ _Paging Doctor Jones and Doctor Free to the OR_ ”

“God fucking _damn it_ Gavin- was that _really_ fucking necessary?” Michael fumed as the Tannoy rang. Ray couldn’t make out much of their body language, but he could imagine that Gavin was probably rolling his eyes with a stupid punch-me-in-the-face grin he always wore when Michael was in the room.

“What?! I thought it was a nice touch.” He said.

 _Yeah_. Ray thought to himself. _It’s fucking Michael and Gavin._

They had all been fairly good friends, back in the day. When the Fakes did start occasionally working together, Ray had found Michael and Gavin to been the closest guys to his age with his interests. They were irritating, infuriating and occasionally downright idiotic- but, they had a good little repertoire between them and were always around for a good laugh and a bit of fun.

“Are you just gonna… do it now?” He heard Gavin ask, sounding uncharacteristically sheepish. Ray resisted the urge to frown, and concentrated mostly on keeping his breathing as steady and convincing as possible. Despite being friends, there was no way Michael and Gavin were simply _visiting_ him in the hospital. The Fakes didn’t quite do domestic.

“Yeah.” Michael whispered. “I… you can say goodbye if you want.”

 _Goodbye?_ Ray wondered. Last he checked, he was most certainly still alive. But then… how long had it been? For all he knew, he’d open his eyes and Michael’s freckles would be joined by liver spots and Gavin’s glowing eyes would have crow’s feet surrounding them.

“Nah.” Gavin said, flippantly. “That makes it sad, dunnit? Rather than just a job.”

“Rather than just _my_ job.” Ray heard fumbling, something that sounded like a briefcase being unclipped, and instantly, his body tensed. “I just let you tag along.”

“But Michael! I’m your backup!”

“But _Michael_.” He snickered. “Whatever Gav. If you really wanna play nurse, you can pass me the needle.”

There was a long pause, which Ray hoped was Gavin reconsidering his options. With all they’d been through over their few short years as friends, were Michael and Gavin really ruthless enough to put him to sleep like a puppy with a broken collarbone?

When he felt calloused fingers trailing his forearms, checking for a vein, Ray supposed that he would probably have done the exact same thing. He didn’t know how long it had been, and perhaps Ryan hated him enough to set up his euthanasia.

 _Ryan_. He thought. _That handsome fucking bastard. If there’s any way I live through this… I’m going to fucking kill him._

The needle was cold as it pushed into his skin, but Ray didn’t react. Perhaps it really was his time to go after all.

“Michael?”

“ _What_?” Michael snapped, sighing comically as he always did when Gavin was involved. “What?” He repeated, softer.

“Geoff’s calling.”

Ray had wondered what the incessant vibrating had been, and he was starting to wish Michael would just hurry up already- because he had never been a fan of long, drawn out tension. Ray was a shoot first, monologue later kind of assassin.

“Daddy?” Michael answered the phone with that stupid satirical sickly-sweet tone he always saved for when Geoff called. Ray could practically hear Gavin’s eye roll as he snatched the phone pressed it to his own ear.

“No, we haven’t done it yet.” Gavin was saying. “No- well, Michael’s got the needle in but… he hasn’t done it yet…no, I know that… but-… wait, but Geoff-” There was a long pause, silence filled only by the humming of equipment around them and the low hum off Geoff’s voice over the phone. “Alright then.” Gavin sighed. “Alright... I’ll tell him… Bye Geoff... Love you too.”

The phone beeped once as the call dropped, and with an almost guilty hint to his voice, Gavin spoke.

“Geoff said abort the mission.”

“What?” Michael grumbled. “Why the fuck would we abort the mission?”

Gavin laughed, which Ray hadn’t been expecting. “He said… uh, he said that Ray deserves a much more honourable death than one in his sleep after two years of being comatose.”

There was a long pause.

“Fuck.”

Ray resisted the urge to cry when he felt the cool needle be pulled from his vein. Michael and Gavin continued to bicker as they packed away their equipment, but he wasn’t listening anymore.  He was _alive_. God, in the form of Geoff fucking Ramsey had given him yet _another_ chance to survive the impossible.

And Ray knew exactly what he was going to do with it. He had tried to get out of AH, and some asshole in a tunnel had shot him in the head because of it. Ryan had killed him, unsuccessfully, and Ray had always believed a man was nothing without his manners.

 

 

 

He would stop at nothing to return the favour.

 

 


	2. The Arms Dealer From Boston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray had always associated guns with a lack of effort. Guns were easy, shooting was easy. What he did, with his weapon of choice- that took skill. That took practice.
> 
> That took adoration for the sport of bloodshed.

Chapter Two – The Arms Dealer from Boston

 

_Candy is dandy,_

_But liquor is quicker._

**_Six months later_ **

Boston was just as shitty has he remembered it, two years on. Cold, and full of crime. Just the way Ray liked his cities, as Boston often reminded him fondly of his hometown, New York.

But Ray wasn’t in Boston for sightseeing.

The gun shop was fairly harmless, from the outside. An old wooden sign reading _Lil J’s!_ with a giant plastic gun half clung to the edge, half dangling down towards the street below where the nails holding it up had become loose and rusted. It had been there for years, the only legacy of the Dooley family. However, the most recent owner- Jeremy- had found a little more use for it than his father and grandfather and so on-so forth.

The bell chimed when Ray wandered into the shop and tugged his large hoodie down from his head. Jeremy was tinkering behind the counter, as he often was, but perked up when he heard the door open.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you to-” he stopped, looking up from the counter at Ray, stood in the centre of the shop, “… _Ray_?”

Ray grinned. “Hey, dude.”

There was a pause of silence, Jeremy’s jaw practically brushing the edge of the counter and his eyes bulbous like a housefly. “Ray?” he repeated. “I… I thought you were…”

“Dead?” Ray frowned. “Nah. I am very much alive, just with a few metal plates in the right side of my skull.” he tapped two fingers at the side of his head to prove his point, and the faint clang of the metal made Jeremy shift from foot to foot. He then closed his mouth completely, and anxiously curled his hands into fists over the desk.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The words forced their way from his throat. Ray smiled.

“Don’t be.” He shrugged. “You didn’t do it.”

“So- Ray.” Jeremy knocked on the counter nervously. “Uh, what can I do you for? You looking for a gun?”

“Got one of those.” Ray pulled out his gun suddenly, and Jeremy flinched. His hand flew to under the counter, surely grabbing at the pistol that was duct taped underneath. However, he didn’t pull it out immediately- as Jeremy wasn’t stupid. He may have been raised to be a gun trader, but he knew that Ray was far quicker on the draw than he.  “The kind of weapon that I’m looking for it a little more… refined to my training.” Ray said. Jeremy froze.

“Well… uh- word on the street has always been that you’re the best around with a sniper rifle.” He stuttered. “I’ve just got a few in after a shipment from Columbia that you’d love, and-”

“Not a rife.” Ray shook his head. “What I’m looking for is considerably more… precise.”

“More precise than a sniper rifle?”

“Much,” Ray nodded. “much sharper.”

“Well, uh- I’m an arms dealer, Ray.” Jeremy said, looking to the floor, the desks, and the shelves awkwardly to avoid Ray’s eyes. “I only do guns and ammo, maybe a couple knives here and there- I don’t really think I can help you with what you’re looking for.”

 “Is that so?” Ray took a step forwards, tucking his pistol back into his back pocket so he could lean forwards over the desk, staring up at Jeremy, who continued to look nothing more than completely uncomfortably. “Because… you see, Lil J- I may have been asleep for a while….” He said. “And I may have been completely fucking dead to the world but even still- I had connections. And it took me two years to wake up and go knocking at their doors again. And they told me that something very precious of mine was… donated here for safe keeping.”

“Well- I’m sorry Ray but… I have no idea what you’re talking about-”

“Cut the shit, Jeremy.” Ray stood up straight, and drew his gun straight at Jeremy’s broad, toned chest. “Where’s my fucking sword?”

“Ray-”

“The _sword_.” Ray gritted his teeth. “Yatsori. Orginal. Pink scabbard. Pretty fucking unique. Don’t think you could’ve got it lost in inventory.” He pressed the gun against Jeremy’s chest a little tighter, and a bead of sweat slipped down the shop-owner’s brow. “You’ve got ten seconds to get it for me, or I shoot you in the fucking heart.”

“I can’t-”

“Nine seconds!”

“Ray!”

“Eight…”

“-But, I promised, and-”

“Seven.” Ray’s tone was playfully warning. “Don’t let me get to five. I count quicker after five.”

“Ray!”

“Six!”

“-Wait! I’ll give it you, stop!” Jeremy pleaded. “I’ll fucking give it to you!”

Smiling sweetly, Ray pulled the gun back from its place pressed firmly against Jeremy’s chest. “My favourite words to hear.” He smirked. Jeremy looked like he wanted to glare at him, but he was simultaneously too scared and too distrustful of Ray’s surrender to do so.

“Here.” He said, and Ray heard something click under the counter. The display, several guns shielded by glass flipped over and his sword took its place, gleaming in her stand under the lights. Ray was overcome with relief, dropping to his knees involuntarily and pressing his palms to the cool glass as he admired the true love of his short violent life.

“Hey baby.” He said quietly, resting his forehead briefly against the display. “I have fucking missed you.”

“Take it.” Jeremy leant over the counter and unlocked the glass covering. “She’s more trouble than she’s worth.”

As the glass fell away, Ray’s hands shook. Ray’s hands never shook- he’d been practicing martial arts since he was three and had been holding a gun since he was ten. However, when presented with the one weapon thing he could always rely on besides his own fists, he was in complete awe.

She gleamed as he lifted her from the stand, dropping his gun to the floor to draw her from her sheath. The metal sparkled as it caught the light, and Jeremy squinted.

“Leave.” He said. “Please, Ray- nothing personal but I don’t want any trouble. Ryan dropped it here because he didn’t want it to fall in the wrong hands.”

Ray frowned, snapping the sword back into its scabbard. “I’ll bet he did.” He frowned. “Thank you, Lil J.”

Ray turned and headed for the door, but stopped in the doorway when Jeremy called his name again. Sword slung over his back, Ray turned and glared.

“Sorry-” Jeremy laughed nervously. “Just… I was wondering, like- what are you planning on doing with it? Why’d you need it again, after all this time?”

“Please.” Ray smirked. “Trust me, Jeremy. You’re way better off not knowing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments etc always appreciated!


	3. Foreign Leader / Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray pays Gavin a visit, looking for information.

Chapter Three – Foreign Leader / Golden Boy

 

 

_The saddest thing about betrayal,_

_is that it never comes from your enemies._

 

Los Santos had changed more than Ray had expected it to. For some reason, the city felt darker than it had before- more shadows around corners and hats pulled forwards to shield prying eyes. Ray was swamped in his hoodie as usual, hood tugged firmly over his face with a purple bandanna tied tightly across his mouth with his sword slung on his back. The last thing he wanted in Los Santos was to be recognised.

The Fake AH Crew, when he’d known it, had run completely through one base of operations. The penthouse had originally been Jack’s, high and looming in the tallest darkest building on the skyline but slowly as they formed together it had become more of a temporary residence, for any of them to crash in for the night or sit around for breakfast in the morning. It was a home, most of all- unlike the usual string of safe houses and hotel rooms Ray had been used to in his entire career.

Jeremy had given him enough information for Ray to guess that Gavin would be there. He’d also been texting a few old contacts, and the word on the street was that Daddy Geoff had retired for good and moved in with Mama Jack across town and left their favourite baby all alone to run things. His contact had laughed at the absurdity, and Ray had shot him in the throat. He was tempted to draw his sword and slice the asshole’s head off for talking bad about his brother, but he relented. He wanted her first blood to be more meaningful than a snide comment in the back of a 7/11.

Nobody took orders from Geoff anymore, word had it. Nobody except for Michael and Gavin.

Breaking into the penthouse wasn’t hard- it never had been. The main struggle of the penthouse had always been escaping its suffocating embrace, as all the best who tried had found out. People didn’t just _leave_ Fake AH. Not unless it was in a body bag- and Ray had come far too close to that option already.

“Gavin?” He called, closing the front door of the penthouse beside him. Everything looked the same, eerily so, with the exact same bright red couches that Geoff had always hated and the sparkling crystal chandelier Jack had stolen from a jewellery shop and the dent in the wall from where Michael had gotten pissed at Gavin and the scratches on the faux chimney breast from when Gavin got too confident with Ryan’s knife collection.

It was _them_. The penthouse was a living, breathing replica of everything that they used to be.

Ray scratched at the metal plate on the side of his head nervously as his footsteps echoed through the room. “Gav?” he called. “It’s me.”

“I know.”  Gavin’s voice was there, but Ray couldn’t see him. The room remained empty, and with narrowed eyes, Ray reached for his sword and grasped it tightly in front of his eyes, body working on auto-pilot as he shifted into fight stance.

“Fucking show yourself.” Ray called. “I just want to talk.”

“Nice one.” He heard Gavin say. “I don’t know what kind of conversation requires a giant bloody samurai sword. You never just want to _talk,_ Ray.”

“Alright.” Ray shrugged. “You got me there. A boy’s only as good as his back-up plan- but if you come out unarmed-”

“-What, you think I’m an idiot?” Gavin asked, absurdity lacing his voice. “No way. Sorry about this Ray but… I think you can understand why I’m reluctant to trust you. I really, really am going to feel quite sorry.”

Ray gritted his teeth. “Sorry?” he asked. “Sorry for what?”. Gavin laughed.

“Don’t worry.” He said. “You’ll see.”

For a second, Ray wondered if it was thunder.

A low rumbling filled the penthouse, and suddenly he was aware of how big it was. The furniture was there, but the room had never felt so _open_ before, and Ray’s heart began to race. There was a robotic hum as the shutters on the giant windows lifted and bright light filled the room, Ray drawing his sword instantly. The glint of the metal in the sun made him feel oddly proud, and he squatted as the rumbling grew louder and nearer.

They appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere.

It was obviously Gavin’s design- each and every body dressed head to toe in yellow with swords almost identical to his (but nowhere near as refined), drawn in front of them, aimed directly at him. The light reflected off of each and every surface, but Ray’s eye did not once catch a single mark of authenticity. They weren’t _Yatsori_ swords. Not even nearly.

“What the fuck?” Ray mumbled, but Gavin’s voice was gone- replaced by the quiet hum of his favourite _Hall & Oates_ collection CD. Ray cursed Gavin for his musical predictability as the wannabe-warriors around him narrowed their eyes and gripped their swords just a fraction tighter. Ray shifted his stance.

They advanced at once, and Ray remembered the exact reason he had joined the Fake AH Crew in the first place. Martial arts and Samurai-Sword combat had been in his blood for his entire life, so like a robot resorting to factory settings, his body glided and drifted around the room as he had his first _real_ taste of blood in two whole years.

And the _blood_ , he craved it! Ray had forgotten how satisfying it was to glide his sword through an opponent’s flesh like butter and to watch the red spray and sparkle out, decorating the walls and the ceilings and the floors and the furniture. His own hoodie, tattered into ribbons by too many close calls had to be shrugged off, and the white T-shirt he had on underneath was soggy with the spilt blood of his rivals.

It was almost calming, when it dwindled down to the last five or so. Gavin’s army seemed to be in the hundreds, as every time Ray tired more would appear with their bogus swords and their nun chucks and mediocre fighting skills. None of them were a match for him nor his weapon, and Ray had the slightest thought that Gavin probably knew this going in.

“Last chance.” Ray panted, wiping the blood from his bruised mouth with one hand and holding his sword with the other. He stared down the two remaining fighters opposite him, both shaking as they gripped their swords with both hands. “Walk away now, and I won’t kill you.”

“Don’t you understand?” One, the girl, shouted at him. Ray frowned, and gripped his sword tighter.

“If you don’t kill us.” The other one moved to stand in front of her. “He will.”

Ray looked to the floor and gritted his teeth. “Then I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I can’t just walk away from this. I’ve got a score to settle.”

It was barely a flick of his wrist, but he cut both of them when they were least expecting it. His sword sliced straight through their jugulars like a kitchen knife to a tomato, and both sunk to their knees as the blood sprayed in all directions. Ray stooped to the floor to lift his shredded hoodie, and wiped the bitter blood from his face.

“Upstairs.” One of them wheezed out, just as he was about to turn and walk away. “He’s upstairs in the garden.”

 

* * *

 

Ray loved the garden.

The garden had always been his favourite spot in the entire penthouse, back when he had chosen to make it his own temporary home. It was nice, on warm night to retreat from the madness of his so-called family, smoke a bowl or two before bed, and watch the city live and breathe.

Towards the end, even Ryan had joined him up there. Ray eyed the spot on the edge of the roof where Ryan had kissed him and told him that they’d never, ever be apart, as long as he was living and breathing.

He supposed it hadn’t been entirely untrue.

Gavin was stood not far from that exact spot, giant quiver of razor sharp arrows slung lazily over his back and bow clutched loosely in his fist. He didn’t look to be in the fighting mood, but Ray had seen Gavin turn at the brush of a hair past his ear, bow gripped like an Olympic archer and arrow already launched into the air, ready to embed itself into your skull, back when they worked together.

“Hey!” he called.

“Don’t!” Gavin whined, turning to pout rather than square up when he took in Ray’s bloodied appearance. “You know I always hated fighting with you Ray.”

“Yeah.” Ray smirked, drawing his sword and flicking the fresh blood off the edge, across the plants. “Because I’d always win.”

“You’re too good! If I run out of arrows, I’m screwed-”

“-I’m sure you could nail me before that. Easily from this distance.”

“Maybe.” Gavin shrugged. He pulled a single arrow from his quiver but did not string it at his bow. Instead, he rolled it between his fingers thoughtfully before snapping it clean in half with his fist. “But what’s the point? Then I’d just kill you and that would be _boring_.”

To prove his point, he tossed his bow on the ground and kicked it in Ray’s direction. Ray didn’t re-sheath his sword, just dragged the metal tip across the floor so it caught the ridged string of Gavin’s bow and sliced it clean in half.

His so-called brother barely sighed.

“I’ll bill you for that.” He said. Ray smiled.

“You can afford it.”

“You’re right.” Gavin smiled. “I can.”

“You always used to get so sensitive about money talk.” Ray narrowed his eyes, sword itching in his fist. She was thirsty, again, despite having being fed only minutes before. Ray was _starving_ for the taste of Gavin’s blood on his property, but he knew he couldn’t advance without being provoked. “What gives?” he asked instead.

“I changed, things… are different. We all changed.” Gavin tapped his lip briefly, walking over to a tall potted palm tree and yanking something from behind the trunk. “With our best marksman unconscious and the other one fucking _gone_ I had to learn to be a little less sensitive and a little more… handy.” He stepped back into the light, revealing a glimmering sword. The scabbard and handle was white with intricate gilded coverings, and when he unsheathed it, Ray noted that instead of sharpened steel, the blade was crafted entirely of gold. It still wasn’t a Yatsori- but it was as close as replicas got.

“That must be heavy.” Ray said. Gavin tossed the scabbard off towards his left and raised the sword above his head. “Not as heavy as you’d think.” He smiled, before launching himself towards Ray with a sudden speed, quick enough to flick the sword and strike Ray briefly across the chest. The cut was shallow, but the shock set in before Ray was ready and he fell to his knees, raising his own sword to block Gavin’s next few blows. He struggled to raise himself to one knee, pressing one hand to his chest in a futile attempt to plug the bleeding before reaching forwards and managing to slice Gavin at the shin. As his brother doubled over, Ray used his strength to stand, punching Gavin as hard as he could in the gut until they swapped positions, Gavin on his knees and Ray stood above.

Gavin lifted his sword again, but Ray dodged it expertly and the two sparred from their new position. Gavin’s sword was a beauty to look at, but the gold proved to be impractical and useless against Ray’s cold steel, and after a few minutes, Ray’s adrenaline peaked, and he could no longer feel the pain in his chest. He’d gotten a few more good gashes on Gavin; his arms and torso stained with brief spurts of blood. He wouldn’t die- but he wasn’t much use in a fight.

Lifting his foot, Ray kicked Gavin’s sword out of his grip before pointing the tip of his own at his brothers Adam’s apple.

“Here’s the deal.” He said. “You tell me what I want to know and I _won’t_ kill you.”

Gavin swallowed nervously, and the shift in his skin created a slight nick at the end of Ray’s sword, fresh blood spilling from his neck.

“Uh.” He glanced down, and then back up to Ray’s eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“Ryan.” Ray said. “I need his location.”

“Well, that’s going to be a problem.” Gavin said. Ray pushed harder against his skin until he squeaked, raising his hands up in a pathetic surrender. “Wait, wait! Let me explain at least, jeez!” Gavin exclaimed. “Look- Ray… after… after _you,_ Ryan quit! He went under the radar. We haven’t heard from him since.!”

Ray didn’t want to believe Gavin. What he really wanted to do was to muster up the rest of his strength and slice his brother’s pretty golden head clean off his shoulders. But, Gavin never lied to him. Not even when he wanted to.

“Michael then.” He prompted, and when Gavin adamantly shook his head, the pressure against his neck was increased. “I swear to God Gavin, I might not kill you- but I’ll make it real fucking hard for you to breathe through anything other than a tube for the next sixth months if you don’t start talking.”

“Miami!” Gavin wheezed, as another nick was made in his skin, fresh blood staining the collar of his expensive shirt. Ray drew his sword back and sheathed it over his back, taking a few steps away. “Ray, please-” he called, once Ray had turned and made his way towards the door back into the penthouse. “Please, don’t hurt him!”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t?” Ray asked without looking back. Gavin was silent.

He didn’t have a good reason.


	4. Jersey Boy / Every Other Freckle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray pays Michael a little visit. Geoff's got other ideas.

Chapter Four – Jersey Boy / Every Other Freckle

 

_Every betrayal,_

_begins wit_ _h trust_

_And terror can make good men cruel_

 

The little information Gavin had given him lead Ray up to a villa worthy of _Malibu Stacey_. It was a large white building, out in the remote, beach outskirts of Miami. This was celebrity country- which made Ray nervous. If Michael had chosen to hide out somewhere so pathetically plastic, perhaps he really had changed, and there wouldn’t be reasoning with him.

But then, Ray didn’t want to reason. As he made his way past the shiny Rolls Royce, Bentley and BMW, the anger within him built with every step. How dare Michael have been so ready to put him to sleep? Did he have no integrity? Ray wondered how much his so called best friend had changed over the past two years, and clenched his fist as he rang the doorbell.

The door opened, Michael’s vague smile etched into a frown the moment he laid eyes on Ray, glaring at his doorstep. Ray didn’t give him the chance to even exchange in pleasantries- once he realised he had the advantage of surprise. Instead, he leant back and swung his fist forward, smashing Michael clean in the face.

Michael Jones, hailing from New Jersey, had never been one to turn down a fight. Once Ray got his lucky pop shot, he stumbled backwards into the house and the clench of his teeth was audible. His hands flew up to his bleeding nose on instinct, but once Ray had kicked the door shut behind them, they lowered back to his sides and clenched. Blood dripped onto the tiled floor.

“What the fuck Ray? Why the fuck are you doing this?” He asked, body practically bouncing with anger as he stood into a more fighting stance. He wasn’t going to make the first- or, second move. He wanted to wait for reasons and other bullshit. Ray didn’t have the time for a wit-off.

“What the fuck do you mean why?” he asked, drawing his sword. “You tried to fucking kill me in my sleep. Think I’d forgotten?”

“Ray.” Michael sighed, but his eyes were wary and focused on Ray’s sword and the way it caught the light. A few drops of blood ran from his nose down onto the collar of his grey t-shirt, but he didn’t move to wipe them away. “I was under orders.”

“Under fucking orders.” Ray could just imagine the satisfaction of his sword, gliding through Michael’s pale throat. The blood would look so red in contrast to his freckled skin, and the thought made Ray smirk. Only Michael could be living in Miami without even the hint of a tan. “You were supposed to be my _friend_.”

“You _know_ how these things are Ray!” Michael yelled, and the chandelier above them shook in the slight breeze. “Leaving the Fake AH is a big deal- and, we didn’t think you’d ever wake up.”

Ray smirked again, shaking his head briefly. He shifted from fight stance into a more relaxed posture, but his grip on his sword didn’t loosen. “Oh yeah?” he asked. Michael nodded.

“I’m sorry,”

“Well, I fucking did wake-” Ray had lurched forwards, his intention to send the sword straight through Michael’s chest. He had surprised even himself, pretty convinced on his way over that he wouldn’t kill his best friend- only hurt him a little. Okay, maybe a lot. But- it was too late, he’d aimed for the heart and thrust the blade forwards, only thrown off his perfect shot at the last minute by a sudden burning in his shoulder. What the fuck was that? He didn’t have a chance to look before he was suddenly falling, rolling across the tiled floor with blood leaking from his upper arm until his face turned, and he opened his eyes for a few seconds to spot Geoff, standing at the other end of the villa with a pistol in his hand and a very, very guilty expression plastered on his face.

Ray wondered why Geoff would ever feel guilty for killing him. He’d been the one in the wrong, when it came to the Fake AH Crew. He’d fucked things up by becoming too involved with Ryan, and he’d been the one who’d decided to run away, before Ryan had the chance to stop him. He’d fought Gavin, slaughtered his army and then showed up here- ready to plunge his sword through his best friend’s heart.

When _did_ he become such a bad friend? Ray wasn’t sure. It was definitely sometime towards the end of 2014 when the appeal of the crew started to wear off. He had lost focus, even on missions. It wasn’t as fun anymore.

That’s why he left- or, attempted to. He just wanted them to carry on without him.

Ryan seemed to have other plans.


	5. Brothers in Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff pays Ryan a visit.

Chapter Five – Brothers in Arms

 

 

_Logic may indeed be unshakable,_

_but it cannot withstand a man who is determined to live._

 

 

The sun was beating down on the dirt roads of Texas, and Geoff exhaled with a frown, wiping the sweat from his brow with a cool cloth he’d been carrying. Why, of all the places in the world Ryan had chosen Texas, he wasn’t so sure. He must’ve been listening to Jack, or something else equally as stupid.

Ryan’s RV was docked in the middle of what could easily have been desert. The floor was sandy and burning, the sun bright and scorching above them. Ryan himself was sat in a rocking chair outside the mobile home, tapping his fingers on the armrest with an opened book in his other hand.

“Geoff.” He looked up and his once screaming, burning blue eyes now subdued and empty. Ryan was unreadable as ever, it seemed, and Geoff sighed again.

“May I?” he nodded to the door. Ryan smirked.

“Fuck no.” he turned a page.

“Typical.” Geoff rolled his eyes, before looking around the small set up Ryan had made himself for another chair. His search was unsuccessful- the closest thing to a seat being an open top portable barbeque. “Still living the one-man-show life then?”

“Yup.” Ryan nodded. “Now cut the shit. What do you want?”

Geoff folded his arms. That was a loaded question- because there was a lot of things he wanted. His boys, safe and together. His boys, safe and as far apart as possible so they couldn’t kill each other, as they seemed to be hell bent on doing. It was a lot to consider- but for now, they seemed safer apart. He and Michael had actually been having a good time in Miami, taking a break from it all whilst Gavin ran the business up in LS. Of course, while he had counted on Ray waking up eventually, he hadn’t quite predicted the rage-filled, vengeance-seeking murder spree he would set pace into. That one was a surprise, as Ray always had such a mild temperament.

“Ray’s up and kicking.” Geoff told Ryan. “Seems to have it in for you, for obvious reasons. He’s been looking for information, slaughtered Gavin’s army and was pretty close to turning Michael into a kebab before I got him.”

“Hm.” Ryan was pensive and thoughtful for a few seconds, closing his book and resting it on the floor. Then, he looked up at Geoff. “You kill him?”

Geoff shook his head. Ryan smiled.

“Couldn’t bring yourself to do it, huh? Don’t worry. Happens to the best of us.”

“You sound pleased.” Geoff glared. “Do you not realise that this kid is hell fucking bent on murdering us all? Do you not even want to consider stopping that?”

“Nope.” Ryan shook his head, rocking back in the rocking chair for another thoughtful few seconds as Geoff sighed and tapped his foot against the ground. “Ray deserves his revenge, Geoff.” He said. “And we all deserve what’s coming to us.”

“Oh yeah?” Geoff uncrossed his arms, before tucking one hand into his jeans. “Well, I don’t fancy becoming fucking sushi anytime soon. Kid’s pretty handy with that sword.”

“Always has been.” Ryan reached down to the floor beside him, where a can of diet coke sat. He took a sip. “And he oughta be too. Considering how long he’s had it.”

“You’re the only one he ever told the story.” Geoff huffed, a small smile playing on his face. “Figures. He always clammed up about it to the rest of us.”

“What story?”

“How he got in, you know. How he found the life, how the life found him and yadda-yadda-yadda.” Geoff explained. “He never liked talking about his past or his family much to us, but I heard he was awful talkative with you.”

Ryan leant back in the rocking chair. “Well, if I tell you- I’ll most certainly have to kill you.” He smiled. Geoff rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Alright then,” Ryan nodded, taking another gulp from his Diet Coke. “Ray was ten when both his parents were killed in Puerto Rico by a malicious group that ruled the gang scene out there- I forget their name. Something-something- _La_ -something. But anyway- Ray witnessed the whole thing, he was hidden in the room. Then, the next five years of his life were spent on a Puerto Rican/American army base where he was picked up for a young agent program. He was the perfect candidate- orphaned, already exposed to bloodshed, you know? So, yeah- that’s where he learnt how to fight and how to shoot his sniper. They even sent him away to Japan for a year to learn how to yield his sword. However, by the time he was 16 the government were getting a little iffy about the programme and its ethics, so it was abandoned. And what’s a sixteen-year-old assassin with no outlet for his skillset to do?”

Geoff gulped. “Get his revenge?”

“Bingo.” Ryan grinned. “Lucky enough for Ray, Patrice Filanapez who was the head of the gang and the person responsible had a thing for young boys. Ray gained access to his room under the guise of a prostitute and got his revenge. The word spread pretty quick about him after that, and he’s been working jobs with that fucking hunk of metal ever since.”

“You still got yours?” Geoff asked, squinting as the sun moved to behind the RV, illuminating it, and Ryan, who was shaking his head and staring at the ground.

“Sold that thing a long time ago, Geoff.”

“Sold it!” Geoff groaned. “Dude, that thing’s fucking _priceless_. Especially now they’re finite- Yatsori himself is long dead. Not to mention it was a Christmas gift that Jack put a lot of effort into getting a hold of.” The last part was more of a mumble, and Ryan rolled his eyes, disregarding it all together.

“Priceless.” He scoffed. “Everything’s got a price, Geoff. And here- that price was $350 in a scrap metal yard.”

Ryan wasn’t very talkative after that. Geoff tried to press him for small talk, asking him how he’d been and if he’d spoken to any of the others, but the Vagabond clammed up. Ryan was done talking, apparently, pocket knife in his hand etching lines in the wood of his chair. Geoff wasn’t stupid- the news, Ray, had irked Ryan. He wasn’t _afraid_ persae, but he was worried. He knew Ray would be coming for him next.

Perhaps he deserved it.


	6. Lady In Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray reunites with yet another old face from the past. Unlike the others, she doesn't seem so bothered.

Chapter Six – Lady in Red

 

 

 

_You always forget what you want to remember,_

_and you remember what you want to forget._

Ray opened his eyes, and for a second, wondered if it had all been a dream because he was right back where he had started:

The hospital.

He quickly dismissed the thought. This time, his limbs didn’t ache like he’d ran a marathon. His body felt fine, actually, except the dulled ache in his shoulder and the fact that he couldn’t sit up without wincing.

“Easy.”

Ray’s head whipped around to spot a figure in the corner of the room. He recognised the voice- of course he did. Lindsay had always sounded as smooth as warm honey, smothering and surrounding his senses. She was sat on a tiny plastic chair in the corner of the room, red hair vibrant against her navy hoodie and plain jeans. Beside her, his sword was leant.

Ray swallowed nervously, eyes darting between her and weapon. “Are you here to finish me off then?”

“No.” she shook her head, looking up over her magazine to smile at him. “Geoff didn’t want you dead.”

Ray frowned, tugging at the IV in his arm. “Why?” he mumbled. “I fucking deserve it.”

“I’m not sure why.” She shrugged, licking the tip of her thumb before turning a page. “But I’ve been put under strict orders to keep you alive.”

“Really?” That surprised him. After his sudden meeting with the firing end of Geoff’s pistol, Ray was pretty sure his last chances at redemption were _literally_ , shot.

“Michael’s pretty pissed you fucked with his precious boyfriend.” Lindsay stood up. “I’m here mainly to make sure he doesn’t sneak in here at night and slit your throat.”

“I’d deserve that too.” Ray sighed, as Lindsay picked up his sword and rested it by the bed where he could reach it. The miniscule display of trust sent guilt swirling in his stomach. “I’m an awful friend.”

“Maybe.” She smiled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a scrap of paper with something scrawled on it in red. “Or maybe your luck’s just come in.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” he eyed her, suspicious.

“Get well soon, Ray.” She avoided the question, leaving the paper at the end of his bed before slinking out the room. Ray waited until the door had closed with a click behind her, before scrambling to sit forwards and grab the paper, holding it close to his face as his glasses were nowhere to be seen.

He frowned at the string of numbers and letters.

“Okay, co-ordinates, I get that. But where to?” he mumbled to himself, squinting at the paper. It was hard to make out much of anything without his glasses, but there was something written at the bottom in red, messy scrawl. Ray squinted.

 

  * _X189 Y92 Z279_
  * _Ryan Haywood Location: Confirmed_



 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> V V short chapter building up to the climax, which will be posted next week. Ryan and Ray will finally meet... and boi, some shit is gonna go down.
> 
> Kudos/Comments/Questions etc always appreciated, see you next time!


	7. Boss Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray finally gets what he wants. Maybe it wasn't exactly what he'd been fighting all this time for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned next week for the epilogue!

Chapter Seven – Boss Battle

 

_Memories warm you up from the inside._

_But they can also tear you apart._

The trailer, admittedly, had surprised him.

Despite spending the first eighteen or so years of his life living in the southern state of Georgia, deep, Ryan had never been much of a man for hot climates, racism, nor the basic apple-pie lifestyle his family had been accustom to. The co-ordinates left by Lindsay had led to Austin, which was startling to Ray. What could possibly be in Texas to entertain a man like Ryan anyway? Ray didn’t understand the appeal at all- he’d been born in Puerto Rico, which was rural enough. He’d liked the clear air and the sunshine that floated through his bedroom window, but hated pretty much everything else. Once his parents went on the run, he’d spend most of his young life in New York, the complete opposite of _countryside_.

He’d loved it- loved the tall buildings, smoky air, bitter attitudes. New York was a city of rats, crime and desperation. Ray seemed to fit in there well, and even the memory brought a smile to his face. He’d return home soon, maybe once the winter hit. Ray had always loved the snow.

His sword was heavy on his back as he squatted down to the floor, hidden behind Ryan’s truck. The man in question had abandoned his rocking chair, where he’d spent the last two nights sitting silently, staring into the night or reading his book. It was too dark before to make out the cover, but this time Ryan had accidentally left it outside on the chair, and the dull light from the rickety lamp next to the trailer door illuminated the title.

 _Hamlet_ , it read. _A critical reader. William Shakespeare._

Ray rolled his eyes. _Fucking nerd, reading Shakespeare._

Ryan hadn’t come out to read that night, and Ray was growing antsy. His initial plan had been to ambush Ryan on sight, but after squatting behind the truck and observing him read for a few quiet moments, he’d changed strategy. Ryan just looked so fucking _peaceful_ on his stupid old man rocking chair with his stupid Shakespeare book and his stupid dad shoes. Ray had decided then that a quick fight in the sand wouldn’t be nearly as fair. Ryan deserved far worse.

So here he was, on the third night, waiting. The clock on his watch ticked past eleven o’clock, which was the time he noticed Ryan would usually turn in. Clearly he wasn’t coming out tonight. The moon above continued to shine, taunting Ray with its clarity and beauty. Ray wanted to see Ryan’s blood splattered across the weathered white surface- but if he had to settle for tasting it from the tip of his sword, so be it.

Hesitantly, Ray stood from behind the truck. He couldn’t spot Ryan’s silhouette through any of the windows, so he assumed he wasn’t watching from the inside, waiting for him to pounce. Either Ryan was really getting rusty, or he’d spotted Ray several nights ago and was waiting patiently. Ray hoped for the former, but realistically, he knew it would most likely be the latter.

That was why he pulled his sword off his back and into his hands before even approaching the door. If Ryan _was_ waiting for him (which he almost certainly was) he surely wouldn’t have much mercy. Ray would have to be ready to not go down without a somewhat fair fight. He pressed his foot to the first step leading up to the door of the trailer, and cursed under his breath as it creaked. But it was too late now, he’d already started his ascent, so he climbed the next two slowly, and reached forwards with his free hand to turn the doorknob.

With a silent prayer, he swung the door open. Ryan didn’t even give him a chance to get a good enough grip on his sword to attempt a hit.

Something heavy hit Ray in the chest, sending him literally flying through the air and down the steps until he landed with a dull thud on his back in the dust, sword laid out beside him. He hadn’t even had a chance to _look_ at Ryan before he’d been blasted, but judging by the way his ears were ringing and the blood on his t-shirt was growing, he could make a pretty good guess at what had happened.

He heard Ryan before he saw him, strolling languidly down the creaky steps before leaning over him curiously, like a man who’d just hit a deer with his car and was checking to see if it was still even alive. In his right hand, was a tall double-barrelled shotgun which he rested on the ground, leaning on it casually.

Ray reached out beside him to grab his sword, but Ryan was much faster. His foot closed onto Ray’s wrist, pressing hard enough to stop him from moving, but not hard enough to break it. Ray was surprised that he was being shown such compassion.

“Why am I not dead?” he croaked. Ryan smirked, before kicking the sword far out of his reach.

“Rock-salt.” He gestured with the gun briefly. Ray stared up at his beautiful blue eyes, and resisted the urge to smile. Up until then, in all his silent observation, Ray hadn’t seen them sparkle once. But then, with him laid out on the ground and Ryan hovering above him- they shone like the twinkling stars that surrounded the moon above them. “Stings like a bitch, I’ll bet.”

“Huh.” Ray tried to laugh, but the contraction of his chest pulled at the wound. The rock-salt hadn’t pierced him like a bullet would, but had more scraped across the entire expanse of his torso like shrapnel. He wouldn’t die- but that didn’t mean it didn’t ache and burn like a motherfucker.

“Ryan, I-”

“Sh.” Ryan cut him off, and Ray let him. “Close your eyes, kitten. Go to sleep.”

Ray wasn’t an idiot. He knew that allowing his body to fall unconscious was probably the worst thing to do. Not only would he have a chance of not waking up at all, he had an equally as frightening chance of waking up to Ryan torturing him like he most probably wanted to. However, there was still that same softness to his deep rumble of _Kitten_ that Ray had always found it so easy to obey and submit to. Ryan had always had this stupid hold over him- like Ray was his little wind-up toy, dependent on his effort to move.

Ray closed his eyes. Before he slipped into unconscious, he felt Ryan stoop down and kiss his forehead softly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

When Ray came to, for the first time, he actually felt weightless.

“You’re finally back? Yeesh. I was starting to get worried for a second there.”

Ray peeled open his burning eyes and came face to face with Ryan, who was stood less than a foot away from him. Sluggishly, Ray tried to step forwards, but found himself swinging right back to where he started. Ryan smirked, and eyed something above him. Ray tiled his head up, and only then did he realise his positon. Because Ryan could never be so boring as to tie him to a chair or handcuff him to the bed- no. Ryan was so sadistic, he’d actually roped Ray’s hands and dragged them above his head, leaving him to swing from the ceiling at a height where barely the balls of his feet were touching the dirty trailer-park carpet.

“Sorry the place is such a mess.” Ryan gestured around the room with an object held tightly in his hands. Ray’s gut clenched when he instantly recognised it to be his sword. She looked wrong in Ryan’s hands, like his thick fingers were far too rough to hold her properly, and for a few seconds, Ray was worried that she might even bend in his grip. “You didn’t give me much of a chance to tidy up before you busted in here, guns blazing and all.”

“-or,” he added, like a curious afterthought, handle of the sword tapping against his chin. “Maybe I was the one who was guns blazing. I apologise.”

Ray glared at him, and did his best to swing forwards and strike Ryan with his feet. However, it was no good. He was too slow from the mild concussion and the rope was too short to gather much momentum. Ryan easily sidestepped his advance and laughed.

“C’mon Ray, don’t make it so pathetic. It’s not like I’m going to _kill_ you.”

“Oh yeah?” Ray finally found the urge to speak. “Then what are you going to do with me?”

Again Ryan was quiet and thoughtful, pacing up and down the cluttered trailer as he tapped the handle of the sword against his jaw. That was when Ray took the time to really observe his surroundings. The trailer itself looked straight out of an episode of _Hoarders_ , dusty and dirty with boxes stacked high full of various garbage items. Ray caught a few guns and other toys he recognised from the old days, but Ryan didn’t seem to be interested in much apart from what he was turning over in his hands.

“I haven’t decided.” Ryan finally answered. “My first thought was torture… but that’s so predictable, right? You know how these things work far too well for me to really surprise you with much.” He shrugged. “And besides,” he paused again, looking up at Ray with a softness to his face Ray hadn’t seen for years. “Who says I even want to hurt you?”

He reached out, running his fingers through Ray’s curly black hair whilst Ray fought the urge to keen like pet cat. “Fuck you.” He grumbled instead, before hurtling a particularly well aimed glob of spit towards Ryan’s nose.

To his credit, Ryan didn’t seem that fazed by it. He stepped away, very calmly pulling a tissue from his pocket and dabbed his face clean. Ray glared at him.

“Are those your angry eyes or your bedroom eyes?” he asked, smirking. “You know I could never tell the difference.”

“I’ll fucking _kill_ you-”

“-Marry, fuck, kill… it’s all the same really, right? Till death do us part?”

“You fucking sadistic, retarded fucking demented evil motherfucker-”

“-A spring wedding could be nice. You always looked good in white.”

“Fuck you!” Ray yelled, and that was enough to shut Ryan up. He flinched even, before tilting his head and studying Ray with a genuine curiosity. Ray wasn’t surfside. He never usually raised his voice. “Fuck you.” He repeated, quieter, and that was enough for the tears welling in his eyes to slip past his lashes and fall down his face. “You sick fucking bastard. I _hate_ you Ryan.”

“I know.”

Ray looked up, then, brow furrowed. Of all the responses to his slurry of abuse, he hadn’t been expecting that at all.

“Huh?”

“I know.” Ryan repeated, shrugging and lowering the sword so that it skimmed the ground. “I am those things. All of them, and I’ve hurt you by being this way. And for that, I am so sorry.” Ray watched as Ryan’s face shifted, and for the first time in… well… _ever_ , he looked genuinely apologetic. Then, his fingers twitched and his fist tightened around the sword. He leant his weight on his back leg, lifting the sword above his head and bringing it down above Ray’s, cutting the rope that tied his hands together and bound them to the ceiling down in one quick swoop.

Ray landed on his feet a little shakily, rubbing his sore wrists and looking up at Ryan in awe. He’d forgotten how handy The Vagabond himself could be with a blade.

“I’m sorry.” Ryan repeated. “I really, really am.”

Ray watched Ryan with a wide eyed curiosity. Without saying anything, before his ex even had the chance to reach out to him, he ducked under Ryan’s arm and took off in a run in the direction of the RV’s second room and slammed the door tightly behind him.

Once he was safe and away from Ryan’s emotions and his judgement, Ray let his back sink down the door. He hugged his knees to his chest, ignoring the way Ryan was calling out for him in the main room. Of all the things he’d expected from Ryan (if his grand plan to track him down and gut him from the navel upwards had been a success) an apology had never been one of them.

The Vagabond didn’t _do_ apologies. But then, for all the old memorabilia he’d spotted around the living room and now even in the bedroom, Ray hadn’t once caught sight of a grey skull mask.

The bedroom door had a fairly tough lock to it (likely due to Ryan’s severe paranoia) so despite Ryan’s banging and thumping against it, Ray mustered up the strength to stand and look around a little. Ryan was still yelling outside, the door bouncing and he slammed his body into it over and over again. He’d break in soon- and Ray wasn’t sure what would happen after that. He was scared of Ryan- he always had been, but at the time he wondered how cruel Ryan really could be to him before he gave up. They always had found their way back to each other in the past, so why not now?

Ray shook his head. _Fuck_. He thought _two minutes in his trailer and I already want to take him back._ Scolding himself, he looked around the room with a new curiosity. One glance at the door and one second of Ryan’s grunting suggested that he only had a few short seconds before Ryan busted in, and when he did, Ray needed to be ready for a fight. Because if he gave up now- he’d be trapped. It would be him and Ryan, always and forever.

He needed a weapon. The light from the bedroom window sparkled against something stuffed in the back of the wardrobe. Ray looked up at the sky, saying a silent prayer before he reached inside, and pulled out the second most beautiful Yatsori sword he’d ever seen in his life.

“Ray.” Ray turned to see Ryan, stood in the broken doorway with _his_ sword raised above his head. “Put that back. It isn’t yours. It’s _mine_.”

Ray unsheathed the sword. It was barely even used, weightless in his hands. He ran his thumb down the slit, and watched in awe as the blood bubbled at the tip and ran down the length of the metal. Then, he turned and looked to Ryan.

“Fuck you.” He said, before raising the sword above his head and striking.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a strange feeling, having Ryan on his knees.

The way their relationship had worked previously involved a lot of time with Ray on his knees, whether it was between Ryan’s thighs with his pretty mouth put to work or crouched on all fours, scrubbing bloodstains out of the carpet. Ryan was an unpredictable type of boyfriend. He could flip and flop between being the sweetest guy in the world and being a cold blooded killer. No wonder Ray had fallen in love- Ryan was the only person in his life that he couldn’t quite predict.

Even now, with Ryan knelt on the floor with blood pouring from various wounds across his body and face, his own sword held to the swell of his throat by his so-called ex-lover, Ray wondered what had ever gone through his mind that night in the tunnels. Telling Ryan that he _loved_ him had been a terrible idea from the get go. He was lucky to get off with just a shot in the head.

“Do it.” Ryan’s teeth were gritted, his voice strained from the pain and exhaustion that Ray could only imagine tearing through his battered body with every heaving breath. They’d gone at it a while, simple sparring turning dirty quickly. Ryan had always been good with guns and bats and heavy machinery, but his downfall had always been his strength. Ryan was _big_ , Ray was small. Ray was fast. Ray gained the upper hand, easily. Nobody brought a gun to a sword fight.

He had some wounds of his own, sure. Ryan had caught him nastily in the shoulder, and it would surely scar. There was a gash behind his ear, dripping fresh warm blood into his neck. His side ached from where Ryan had aimed a powerful kick, and he was sure a rib or two had snapped, if not been severely bruised. But these injuries were superficial. He could heal. He could move on.

Ryan couldn’t. The worst strike Ray had gotten had been to The Vagabond’s gut, where his hand was currently clutching desperately as if he could force the blood back into his body. Without medical attention, Ryan would certainly die.

But that had always been what Ray wanted, hadn’t it? To eliminate his only weakness, get back to full strength? He was going to move back to New York. He was going to get back to work. He was going to destroy the Fake AH Crew piece by piece, Jack was next on the list, living only a mile away. Ray was going to finish Ryan off, and head straight there. He’d shoot Jack whilst he was sleeping, clean and easy. Jack had always been nice to him.

After Jack, he would head back to Los Santos and finish what he started with Gavin. He’d find Michael again in a pretty Malibu Mansion and hang him from the chandelier. The _piece-de-resistance_ to his show, his spectacle, would be _Geoff Ramsey_ , gutted from the inside out, eyes crying for mercy.  

“Well?” Ryan wheezed, looking up at Ray with pain screaming in his own pretty blue eyes. “What are you waiting for?”

Ray had the sword tucked into Ryan’s neck. One flick of the wrist, and he’d cut the main artery. Ryan would bleed fucking dry, right into his dusty old carpet.

Ray’s hand remained still. Ryan smiled.

“You can’t do it, can you?” he asked. Ray frowned.

“I will.” He said, but the weight of the words dissipated into the thin air before he had a chance to catch them. His throat was clogged and his grip was relenting. “Don’t fucking push me.”

“So do it.” Ryan tilted his head slightly, displaying the soft curve of his pale neck. “Don’t hesitate. Just do it, Ray. Kill me.”

Ryan had always been a smarmy, over-confident asshole, but for some reason Ray couldn’t sense the mocking in his tone. What he had assumed to be Ryan’s coy smile was actually starting to look like a grimace. He wasn’t even clutching his wound anymore; he’d forced his hands behind his back. Ryan was submitting.

Ryan was prepared to die.

“Kill me.” he repeated. “Ray, please. After everything awful I’ve done to you. Kill me.”

Ray sniffed. “Tell me why.” The words didn’t feel like his own, tumbling out of his brain through his lips before he had much of a chance to stop them. “That night in the tunnels. You were gonna shoot me regardless of what I told you. Why?”

“It’s not important.” Ryan closed his eyes. “What are you waiting for, Ray? Just do it.”

Ray looked at Ryan, truly, for the first time since they had been reunited. He took in every feature in seconds, the curve of his jawline and the details of the dark hairs on the lower half of his face. His trimmed eyebrows and thinning hairline. The thick lashes hiding his tightly closed eyes. The grip on Ryan’s sword grew looser, and the pressure pushed against the Vagabond’s neck was relieved. “I… I can’t.” Ray said.

Ryan opened one eye and stared at him. “Can’t or won’t?”

Ray shook his head, dropping the sword and stepping backwards, away from Ryan completely. “Won’t.” He said, kicking the sword away and covering his mouth with the back of his arm as the disgusting coppery scent of blood finally registered in his nose. “I’m sorry- Ryan I fucking can’t do it. Shit- I’ve gotta get you to a hospital man.”

“No!” Ryan shouted angrily. “You can’t… you can’t just _give up,_ Ray! If you do… then just what has this all been for? All this _violence_ and _killing_ ,” he spat. “What happened to getting your revenge for the wrong I did you? Because I fucking did you wrong Ray…” Ryan hung his head, and not for the first time, Ray saw the genuine _shame_ , plastered all over his face. “I did you _serious_ wrong.”

“You did.” Ray nodded, and a few tears gathered in his waterline. “You fucking shot me in the head but I _still_ can’t kill you.”

“And why is that?” Ryan closed his eyes, and sucked in a slow, gentle breath. Another trickle of blood ran down his side, and Ray’s heart tripled in speed.

“Stop it.” He looked away, briefly. “You know why- you’ve _always_ known. I tried to tell you, in the tunnels but-”

“-Tell me now.” Ryan turned to him, and opened his eyes. Ray struggled a steady breath, and balled his hands into fists. This was it. His moment.

Something had started that night in the tunnels. And maybe all of this hadn’t been about revenge. Perhaps, it had all been about settling score.

“I can’t because I love you, alright?” he said, and Ryan’s face fell. “I fucking… tried to run away because I love you and I’m here now with my sword to your throat because I fucking fell in love with you and I _can’t fucking_ _stand_ it.”

The tiny trailer room fell silent, and Ray let out a long breath that he felt he had been holding for two whole years. Immediately, his body felt more relaxed than it ever had. It was like the weight of such a heavy secret had been extracted from his body, balled into a scrap and thrown at Ryan’s face. _The Vagabond_ himself had his head hung slightly, but a small smile played on his face. He had absorbed the hit. He’d processed.

Ray held his breath again, anticipating his response. Ryan lifted his head.

“You know, out of all the samurai sword wielding Puerto Rican’s I’ve come across in my time at the Fake AH Crew; you were always my favourite.” He smiled, hand moving to cover his wound once again. Ray let out a relieved laugh. “Don’t fucking flirt with me when I could decapitate you at any moment.” He glanced over at _his_ sword, fallen from Ryan’s hands not too long ago, barely a foot away from him. Slowly, he stooped down and picked her up, running across her blade with the sleeves of his hoodie in attempt to clean off the blood. The smell was atrocious- Ray wondered why he had never picked up on his distaste for it before. He decided he never wanted to see Ryan’s blood on his weapon ever again.

“Sorry.” Ryan shrugged, coughing. “For the record, whether it makes a difference or not- I loved you too. I loved you so much Ray. From the _moment_ I met you.”

Ray couldn’t help himself. He smiled. “Then why fucking shoot me?” he asked. Ryan shrugged again.

“Why spend months murdering your way to my door with samurai sword?”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.”

Ray bit his lip, attempting to hold back the grin and blush that threatened to rip his face in half. “So…” he shook his head. “What am I supposed to do with that? Fucking take you a date?”

“God no. Us, dating?” Ryan scoffed, struggling to his feet as Ray rushed over to hold him up. “I can’t imagine anything more catastrophic.”

“We’d head to the movies and the theatre would burn to the ground.”

Ryan hummed in agreement, as the two hobbled over towards the wall phone.

“Sounds like a pretty successful date to me.” Ray shrugged, as Ryan lifted the receiver and tucked it between his ear and shoulder.

“You know I have to kill you, right?” Ryan looked over his shoulder as Ray spoke, reaching forwards and dialling 911. Ray was shrugging his shoulders casually, before hopping up onto the flimsy excuse of a table and swung his legs happily. “Of course.” Ryan nodded, looking down at Ray with a smile. “But hey, make it quick? - Oh, yes, operator? Ambulance please…”

Ray’s grin back was twice as wide as Ryan chatted with the operator, explaining that he had slipped and cut himself on some broken glass in the kitchen. “Rye, give yourself some credit dude.” He mumbled quietly. “You deserve way better than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated! Please, let me know what you think. See you next week for the last chapter!


	8. Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things changed, after that.

EPILOGUE: “Afterwards”

 

_Even the darkest night will end,_

_And the sun will rise._

 

 

 

Word spread pretty quickly about the death of the Vagabond.

It was like a Los Santos fairy tale- the biggest baddest baddie in the game, taken down at the hands of his scrawny lover and a samurai sword. Details of the story varied depending on who you asked. Some people claimed that Ray had sliced Ryan’s head clean off and kept it as a token. Some claimed Ray had lost a leg in the fight and the one he sported now was bionic and made of pure steel. Some even conspired that secretly, The Vagabond was still alive, and was actively plotting his revenge.

Ray rushed into the kitchen as the phone rang, smiling as Gavin’s stupid face filled the screen. He answered the call and placed the phone to his ear, hopping up on the kitchen counter gracefully.

“Hi Gavin.”

Gavin called him fairly regularly, once a week at least. Michael was a little less regularly in contact, but Ray couldn’t blame him for that. He was still a little salty over the whole, Ray-trying-to-kill-him thing. Gavin was working him over.

The real one with the grudge, however, had been Geoff.

“Oh, honestly Ray- he was so angry he wanted to kill you himself.” Gavin laughed, recalling the day so many months ago with a fondness to his voice. “But I’ve been working on him, like I said. He’s calmed down a little- and I won’t let him rush over there to cut your throat in your sleep or anything nasty like that.”

“Thanks Gav.” Ray kicked his legs against the counter and smiled to himself. Thankfully, Gavin had forgiven him pretty quickly after their little spat.

“Besides, you and Ryan are grown-ups. That’s what Jack says. You had your reasons why you did what you did and why. That’s it. Ryan’s dead, and you lived. Who would’ve thought that one?”

“Not me.” Ray replied. In the distance, he heard the faint hum of the shower turning off. “Look Gav, I gotta go-”

“-Sure you don’t want a spot back in the Fakes, Ray? I really promise Geoff’s getting over it.”

“No way.” Ray smiled, spotting his lover making his way down the hallway with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Ryan’s dead.” He said. “And I’m retired. Later Gav.”

“Bye Ray.”

Ryan made it to the kitchen just as Ray hung up the phone, turning it face down on the counter. Ryan smiled at him warmly, walking over to settle himself between Ray’s legs and kiss the tip of his nose gently.

“Who was on the phone?” he asked, reaching behind Ray for a ripe strawberry from the fruit bowl. Ray simply shook his head. “Nobody.” He said, as Ryan sunk his teeth into the berry and the red juices ran down his chin. “Just an old friend asking about old news. You know, the usual.”

“The usual.” Ryan repeated. “Feels weird to have a usual.”

“I love you.” Ray said randomly, kissing Ryan’s jaw and letting his tongue explore the expanse of his chin, licking at the faint taste of strawberry running around his mouth. “Wanna lay in bed all day and play Halo?”

“Ray,” Ryan grinned. “I can’t think of a better usual.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this story, so I hope you all enjoyed!!
> 
> Comments, questions? Leave them below because I love to see them, and I'm happy to answer any questions given. Also, my ask box @ PAPERSK1N.tumblr.com is always open! 
> 
> And hey,
> 
> Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> New Fic! Sort of inspired by the Kill Bill movies by Quentin Tarantino, but not nearly as long. Kudos and Comments appreciated as always!


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